<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Not Lucius by alcohen</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356600">Not Lucius</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcohen/pseuds/alcohen'>alcohen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Fluff, Gen, Parenthood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:28:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcohen/pseuds/alcohen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco never wanted to be like his father, but, turns out, it was more difficult that he thought it would be. The fic is about Draco as a parent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Lucius</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco Malfoy remembered quite well the distinct moment when the nasty, slippery feeling that he was retracing his father’s footsteps caught up with him for the first time. It happened the night before Scorpius was born: the nurses had taken Astoria to the maternity ward and left Draco sitting in the living room of Malfoy-manor. Narcissa came down soon and asked him if he wished to join her – she was going to wait for the end of the delivery at the hospital.<br/>“What for?” Draco was genuinely surprised. “Astoria is being handled by the best healers, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”<br/>“You resemble your father more than I could have imagined,” Narcissa noticed in a detached way and disappeared in the greenish flames, leaving Draco alone with the unpleasant truth. That evening Draco didn’t end up understanding why his presence in St Mungo’s was necessary, but sat through the whole night by Astoria’s ward next to Narcissa on principle. When the healer asked, “Would you like to hold the baby?”, Draco stretched out his arms hesitantly, let the healer explain how to hold the infant’s head correctly and understood that he was doing well as he caught a glimpse of approval in Narcissa’s eyes,.<br/>One could guess the nature of the relationship between Draco and Lucius by the simple fact that the word “Dad” was neither said out loud nor even in thought. Lucius preferred the formal “Father” or “Lucius”, and Draco obeyed, as always. Fortunately enough, after the war Lucius ended up in Azkaban, and Draco was given the opportunity to live however he pleased. He was under the impression that he had succeeded in not becoming Lucius’s copy: he remained aloof from politics and anything even remotely having to do with power games; he recently started a successful business with Muggles without breaking the law – and he couldn’t have counted the number of times Lucius had rejected an opportunity just because of his prejudice against Muggles. Draco considered that he was doing his best to not repeat his father’s mistakes, but, turns out, the worst of their resemblance wasn’t about political views or the ability to handle business, but rather about harmless at the first glance domestic habits.</p><p>The second time Draco realised he was similar to Lucius was when Scorpius had drawn all over the Malfoy family tree in magenta ink, not to forget that he’d added a moustache near every male name. Scorpius was four years old; he was a smart kid, and Draco reckoned he could have guessed that the family tree was not a toy. He realised what he was doing when he had swung his hand to slap his son, but, thankfully, his mind slipped him some not too happy memories just in time.<br/><em>Draco was five years old. It was late spring, and the flowerbeds of Malfoy-manor were exceptionally beautiful. Draco picked the best flowers and was about to bring them to Narcissa; he squeezed them so that they wouldn’t slip through his hands and headed to the house. Lucius stopped him at the doorstep.</em><br/><em>“I hope you didn’t disfigure our flowerbeds?” he asked threateningly. Scared, Draco took a step back. “Let me see.”</em><br/><em>Lucius touched the rumpled petals with the headpiece of his cane, then hit Draco’s hand abruptly.</em><br/><em>“Flowers are for decoration. I never want to see you picking them again!”</em><br/><em>The bruised hand hurt. Draco nodded obediently.</em><br/>Draco pulled back his hand in horror and almost felt the blow of the headpiece, as well as all the other kicks and slaps that he’d endured while growing up. He remembered not so much the pain as the fear that caused him his father’s ability to punish any hint of disrespect of the discipline and realised: he didn’t want Scorpius to be scared of him. Surely, it would have been easier to hit Scorpius upside the head, but instead Draco sat down on the floor near him and started to explain what the names on the weird tapestry meant. Soon enough his son’s eyes widened in interest, and he laughed loudly as Draco told him that a certain Irvin Malfoy never actually managed to grow a moustache, so it didn’t make any sense to draw one. Before leaving the room with Scorpius in his arms to show him the portrait of the aforementioned Irvin, Draco cleaned the family tree with a spell and was now completely sure that he was doing the right thing.</p><p>The next challenge has fallen to Draco when the 8-year-old Scorpius was dead set on painting lessons instead of learning riding and fencing.<br/>“Scorpius isn’t a child of a no-name family!” argued Draco with Astoria, who entirely supported her son’s choice. “The Malfoys have always known how to ride and fence!”<br/>“Tell me, Draco, did you personally ever need these skills?” Astoria fended off.<br/>“No, but…”<br/>“Exactly, darling.”<br/>Draco was about to protest and say that his point of view’s been blatantly neglected as he heard Lucius’s voice in his head:<br/><em>“While you live in this house, you will do as I say. Any questions?”</em><br/>Draco flinched and agreed with his wife:<br/>“I guess you’re right. We’ll let him do what he likes.”<br/>Astoria’s radiant smile reconciled him quickly with his soft-heartedness.</p><p>Several years went by calmly, and it was finally time to send Scorpius to Hogwarts. After seeing him off, for the first time in many years Draco found himself alone with Astoria and had to face the fact that after the engagement that Lucius himself had planned he had never attempted to connect with his wife. By that time Draco had already gotten used to the idea that it’s better to try something late rather than do nothing, so he suggested Astoria choose a place for a walk, as they were in London anyway. That’s how, twelve years after their marriage, Draco found out about Astoria’s passion for natural sciences: she has even visited the Muggle museums to find out more. Obviously, they didn’t go to a museum, but it made Draco take a fresh look on Astoria.</p><p>Naturally, on his parenting path Draco encountered lots of other situations when he had to control his urges: for instance, it was quite difficult to prevent himself from asking Scorpuis if there were students in his class who had better grades; however, Draco reminded himself that in his own case such comparisons only led to meaningless rivalries for grades and caught Snitches. Scorpius grew up to become a kind, easy-going kid, and Draco had no desire whatsoever to pressure him.<br/>Draco figured that the conversation they’d had with Scorpius on his thirteenth birthday was the summit of his parental tact. His son gave a long and very abstract speech on experiments with one’s looks – it was trendy at the time – and asked innocently for Draco’s opinion on the matter. Of course, Draco understood that there was nothing abstract about this question, but conceded to the rules of Scorpius’s game and performed a similar monologue on every person being free to do whatever they like with, for the sake of example, the colour of their hair. Especially since it’s possible to reverse the experiment with a simple spell.</p><p>Fortunately, Draco’s fortieth birthday fell on a weekend: he managed to get the permission of the Headmistress and take Scorpius home for several days. Scorpius, who was 14 years old now, arrived at the manor by the Floo network, happily hugged first Astoria, then Draco and blurted out:<br/>“Happy birthday, Dad! Missed you!”<br/>Draco smiled reservedly and watched Scorpius as he ran up the stairs in the direction of his room.<br/>“Let’s go outside, the tea table is ready,” Astoria suggested.<br/>Holding his wife by her shoulders, Draco couldn’t help thinking that he still had to learn how to express his feelings as Scorpius did: easily and sincerely. He wasn’t good at it yet, but it wasn’t the first side of his personality that Draco has been working on, and he was pretty confident that one day he’d succeed. In such company he will sure do.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>